


Martial Cadence

by ProdigalEzplorer (Asguardian)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asguardian/pseuds/ProdigalEzplorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garen was always more than a friend to Jarvan, but he had never considered exactly what that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martial Cadence

Nightmares were common in first few months after he was saved from the hell of his Noxus imprisonment. He would awake screaming before he could clamp down on his voice and emotions. It wouldn't look good if the future king was caught in such compromising displays, but Jarvan did not know how to make the dreams stop. His first night he woke up shouting, Garen was at the door of his bedroom, sword in hand.

They stared at one another, both a little surprised at themselves for they'd reacted. Garen was clad only in his boxers, but it was evident he was alert enough to battle. He straightened as he realized Jarvan was alright and bowed with his head before excusing himself. Jarvan wished he'd stayed.

But it wasn't but a night later that he was shouting in his sleep again, and this time Garen simply entered the room and woke him up.

“Jarvan. Jarvan, wake up.”

Like a lightning bolt, Jarvan was sitting up in bed, ready to fight off whatever had crossed from his dreams into reality. Then his eyes connected with his friend's steady features, Garen's eyes concerned but not wording these thoughts.

“I'm alright, Garen,” Jarvan ground out, throat hurting from his screaming. His whole body felt exhausted; the healers had taken care of all his physical injuries, but they could not pry the abuse from his mind.

“Alright, Jarvan,” Garen nodded, standing to leave. Jarvan stopped him, gripping his arm.

It was another moment that surprised them both, because though they were close friends, it was rare for them to ever touch.

“Can you-” Jarvan started, but Garen was already sitting down again on the bed. “Stay,” He finished, voice not above a whisper.

“Of course,” He sat there silently, waiting as Jarvan settled back into the cushions. Though Garen did not lay on the bed before he fell back asleep, Jarvan knew that at some point he must have. Because the next morning, he was laying on top of the covers, head just barely on one pillow, arms crossed to keep him warm. He was, after all, only wearing his boxers.

Jarvan tugged the blanket from the end of the bed and draped it over Garen carefully. He hadn't gotten enough sleep once again, but it had been far more restful than his previous nights. The sun was already in the sky and Jarvan wondered if he should wake Garen up.

“Garen?” He spoke, Garen's eyes immediately snapping open to connect with Jarvan's own. It was clear by how quickly Garen sat up that he had never intended to fall asleep. Noting the blanket draped over him he tried to hide his frown. Jarvan couldn't help but chuckle, “I should have said you could sleep, too. Or at least get under the covers.”

“It's fine,” Garen traced the seam of the ornate cover. “I should go.”

Putting back on his princely facade, Jarvan nodded, “Probably so.”

Swinging his feet out of the cover and placing them onto the floor, Garen stood. His back and truly, his entire body, was covered in battle scars. Jarvan tried not to reflect on all the new scars he had gained from his brief imprisonment in Noxus. They were numerous and some looked truly hideous. They made him feel sick to see himself in the mirror. Garen's body did not invoke such feelings though; here was a man who was strong, unbreakable, every scar the mark of Garen's success. Envy was closer to how he felt, but still somehow different.

This was also his best friend. Someone he had known since childhood, someone he had trained with, grown with. Garen turned now and bowed at the waist, before taking his leave. He made it all the way to the door before Jarvan found his voice again.

“Tonight,” Jarvan called out. Garen turned, listening to Jarvan. “Come back tonight.”

With another bow acknowledging the request, Garen exited the room.

 

That night, just as he had been asked to, Garen was at his doorway. This time he was wearing a shirt and night pants, obviously wanting to be more prepared. Jarvan nodded to let him know to come in and Garen quietly closed the door behind him. Unsure what he was supposed to be doing, he stood near the door and waited for Jarvan's command.

After stripping down to his boxers, Jarvan finally turned again to see Garen standing by the door, looking far more like a soldier of Demacia than a friend.

“You have got to relax,” Jarvan pointed at him as he spoke. “You're making me feel tense.”

“Oh, sorry,” Garen shifted on his feet, clearly trying to edit his stance from the military general. It just made him look kind of stupid.

“Just go to bed,” Jarvan laughed, flipping the sheets over so he could get under the covers.

Garen approached the side of the bed and slid under the covers, clearly trying to not effect them too much. He also stayed near the edge of the bed, eyes to the ceiling. Jarvan laid on his side and stared at the man beside him. Exhaustion though was never far behind, Jarvan having not slept well in so long. Jarvan drifted off before he could tease Garen's stoicism.

 

Urgot's ugly laughter rang through his ears.

“No one here to hear you, Demacian prince. Scream all you like.”

A scalpel slid into his shoulder, arching downward. Jarvan knew that it didn't matter when he started screaming or how long he withheld his voice. This would always last as long as Urgot wanted it to. The fine blade arched its trajectory, digging between his ribs. Jarvan groaned in pain.

He twisted the blade, Jarvan jerking in pain, another sound of pain from his throat.

“Why so quiet, today?” Urgot tugged the blade forth, picking up something else; a screwdriver. Jarvan screamed now, terror from knowing what was coming next.

 

Garen had him by the shoulders, shaking him hard to wake him up. “Jarvan, come on, wake up Jarvan. Jarvan!”

Jarvan flew up in the bed, nearly headbutting Garen in his ascent. Wild eyes searched the room to find no one but the leader of the Vanguard in front of him.

“You're okay. It's okay. No one else is here.”

He couldn't stop the shake that overtook his body. Though tears stung his eyes, his pride denied him the right to cry. Garen pulled him into a tight hug.

“You're okay, Jarvan. It's okay,” Garen rubbed his back, not relinquishing his grip. The shake of shock was retreating, Jarvan once again feeling the overwhelming exhaustion that was his usual.

“I just want to sleep without...” Jarvan trailed off.

“Have the healers given you anything to aid with that?”

He hadn't asked, so he shook his head.

“I'll ask them about it first thing in the morning,” Garen added, slowly releasing Jarvan. “Can you try and sleep again?”

“Yes, Garen,” Jarvan met Garen's eyes now, realizing that Garen must have been sleeping shallowly to pay greater attention to his needs. The darkness under his eyes did not suit his shining blue eyes. A pang of guilt struck Jarvan to the core; he owed Garen too much to repay. He was the prince and technically, Garen owed his whole life to Jarvan, but for the first time ever, Jarvan wished they were only friends. Just two people allowed to live their lives in any way they saw fit.

It wasn't the first time Jarvan had longed to be anything but a prince, but the heaviness of his future weighed heavily in this moment. Would Garen be here if he were anything less than the prince? The insecurities of all his faults swarmed in his mind; Jarvan laid down, closing his eyes.

Garen scooted closer as he fell asleep, making his presence felt more, within easy reach now. Jarvan felt him shift closer in the bed and opened his eyes to see the man up close once more. His eyes were already closed, face now inches away from Jarvan's. He had turned to his side, facing Jarvan even in rest, always waiting for his prince, the catalyst to all his actions. How could Jarvan ever repay a debt that Garen would consider duty alone?

Atonement.

He had to become someone else. Someone greater than he was in this moment. A king whose past weakness did not define his future actions.

Jarvan began to plan his journey as he laid there in the dark; twelve of the greatest warriors Demacia had to offer would accompany him on his quest. They would travel together and Jarvan would be able to prove himself once more. When they returned, Jarvan would be the man Demacia needed, the Exemplar of Demacia.

Garen would stay here, in Demacia, continue to be the general he was supposed to be. _The Might of Demacia_ , Jarvan thought, _that's who he is_. He would propose this title to his father the next day.

 

His father liked the title and agreed to a ceremony to award Garen publicly. Jarvan knew it would be his last event he would attend before he left.

In the days leading up to the ceremony, Garen seemed fidgety, unable to be fully calm. He knew it was a ceremony that involved him and the Vanguard, but no one had told him much else. Jarvan still had him come to his room at night, but since Garen was clearly on edge, they actually conversed more before just going to sleep.

“You really can't tell me anything?” Garen asked, propped up by one arm in the bed.

“Sorry, it's all my father's idea. I don't know anything,” He lied. It was so nice to speak with his friend casually again. When they were children, they were inseparable. Jarvan hated the divide between them more and more with each passing day.

Garen huffed, laying on his back and crossing his arms. “I hate feeling unprepared.”

“You just show up in your military uniform and do what people order you to. Same as always.”

His friend snorted, “Oh yeah. It's always that easy, isn't it?” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. He changed the pitch of his voice to mock their old captain like he did during their training days. “Crownguard! Stand up straight. Crownguard! Hold your sword like this! Crownguard! Stop breathing so loudly.”

Jarvan found himself laughing, so Garen continued. “Be more like Lightshield! Look at how he stands. Listen to how he breaths,” Garen leaned into Jarvan's face, turning his ear to Jarvan's mouth. “Silently. Perfectly. Be more perfect, Crownguard!”

By now, Jarvan could hardly breath he was laughing so hard.

“See? What if they present whatever it is they're giving me and he's there? I outrank him now and I'll still hear about it from him,” Garen waved his hand in the air, falling back into the bed once more.

“I think you worry about things more than me,” Jarvan said, rolling to face Garen. “And that's not an accomplishment to be proud of.”

“Heh,” Garen's expression had returned to his usual impassive, and Jarvan realized he missed Garen's smile.

“Thank you, Garen,” He said in the silence that had begun to fill the room.

Garen shook his head, facing Jarvan again. “You never need to thank me.” He continued to shake his head slowly.

“A king would be a poor leader if he did not thank people when thanks is due.”

“And you owe me no thanks,” Garen's eyes were hard, though it was clear he was trying to hold the edge out of his voice.

Jarvan put a hand on his shoulder. “I do too, Garen Crownguard. More than you could ever know.”

Garen's jaw was stiff, unable to contest his prince regardless of how he felt. Jarvan wondered what it was he wanted to say, but knew to respect the self-control Garen was showing. It was what made him a leader, what made him so strong; Garen always knew when to curtail his temper, his words, his actions.

“Let's get some rest,” Jarvan finally relented, letting Garen go.

Neither said anything further as they laid in the darkness, both minds full of words left unsaid.

 

The ceremony was a shock to Garen, being given the title “The Might of Demacia.” He thought it was far too complementary and felt compelled to ensure he deserved such an honor.

Meeting Jarvan's eyes in the ceremony, Garen saw something there he hadn't before. Garen knew that Jarvan was still dealing with the emotional trauma of what he'd been put through... But this expression was not one Garen had ever seen on his friend. It was hardened, determined, though worst of all, lonely and filled with loathing. Had he not been in the middle of this ceremony, he would have rushed to his friend's side to see what was wrong.

Garen would never get the chance. As soon as the party moved from the main hall to the courtyard, Jarvan rallied the twelve men he had in mind, and vanished. No one knew where he had gone and everyone came rushing to Garen for answers.

For months Garen worried about Jarvan. Why hadn't he said anything to him? Was he really not worth Jarvan's trust? Two years passed without word from Jarvan. Garen tried to focus on his kingdom, on keeping Demacia together, safe. He joined the League and threw himself into his military work. For two years he tried not to question how he had failed his prince.

By the time Jarvan returned, neither man was the same person. The cold-eyed, hardened man with his lance forged from Dragon bone breezed past him as he stood at attention in the hall with the rest of the Vanguard. Garen observed the change in stance, the change in the way he held his hands. It was as if Jarvan left and a stranger came back wearing his skin.

To be fair, he wasn't the same either. Endless League matches had honed his ability with the sword to where he was unmatched in Demacia. Xin Zhao and he had become close friends, often sharing tactics and tips, fighting alongside on the Rift. He had led war campaigns and was the highest ranked official in the Demacian military.

Jarvan hadn't even seen him as he moved through the castle. His only thought on his father and introducing him to Shyvana and presenting him with the treasures he'd acquired.

 

It was quite a while before Jarvan and Garen actually crossed paths. Jarvan was looking over papers, when he heard a knock at his door.

“Enter,” He called, looking up from the papers.

Garen entered and Jarvan almost didn't recognize him. He had never been a small man, but he was entirely muscle now. Combined with his height, he now not only led armies, but looked the part, too. Jarvan felt the spike of envy and pride for his friend compete within him again. Now better with his emotions, Jarvan smiled like a prince should and spoke, “What can I do for you?”

It was obviously not what Garen expected him to say, but the change in his stance was so minimal, that likely no one else would have noticed.

“Ah, it just... Occurred to me that we hadn't spoke since you'd gotten back.” The careful word choice, the abbreviated speech; Garen was trying to see what terms they were on now.

Jarvan considered this point and nodded. “So, we haven't.” It had been almost two months since his return.

Again not what Garen expected. “I'm glad your back,” He bowed stiffly from the neck and began to move to leave.

“Wait,” Jarvan suddenly realized that if Garen walked out that door right now, their friendship would vanish entirely. “How has Demacia been in my absence? I know the Might of Demacia would know better than anyone.”

Garen paused, “Demacia has grown in many beautiful and incredible ways. Our people are happier with the warring moving more and more from live battles to League oriented scrimmages.” He took a breath, “Our people were very concerned when you left. I feel that only after they saw so many of our high command join the League that they were able to find comfort.”

Jarvan chewed over the information, then looked at Garen in the eye once more. “And you? How have you been?”

Must not have been a question he was expecting, Garen's expression one of sudden turmoil.

“I've been fine,” He replied, words quieter, less confident than when he spoke of Demacia. There was hurt there, questions.

Jarvan had never considered how Garen would take being left behind. Two years had grown Jarvan into a man and something on his travels had helped him see his actions more clearly. The man in front of him was not just a soldier or a friend; this person meant something more.

This was the person he trusted most in the world and he had left him in the dark.

“Come sit,” Jarvan said, putting aside all that he was working on. This was far more important to try and repair than anything else Jarvan could think of. Garen approached and sat down, sinking in the ridiculous cushion of the chairs his office had.

Already smiling at the comical display, Jarvan continued, “Tell me about the Leauge. I've been thinking of joining.”

Garen hesitated again, but told about his experiences, and eventually, was laughing and telling stories.

“Okay, so they're in our base and everyone is in the wrong place. I'm trying to stop Ezreal and Taric from destroying our towers. And Caitlyn, from nowhere, shoots past me and into Swain behind me, killing him off as he tries to make it back to the platform. It's ridiculous, Soraka trying to heal everyone, gets taken out by this scrawny blond kid's magic blasts just as she respawns! Anyway, I rush in and as I'm jumping in to cast Demacian Justice, Taric stuns me! Bam, Ezreal kills me. The Nexus explodes and Swain has the gall to say after that I should have taken Caitlyn's shot for him. I informed him coldly that I'm not in control of my actions on the Rift or I would have killed him personally!”

Jarvan was laughing, through most of it, but as he reached the end, his smile was fading. “Swain belongs to the League?”

All the mirth of Garen's stories were whisked away. “Yes.”

“Who else from Noxus?”

He could see Garen's hesitation, how he did not wish to say; the soldier half of him won over and he answered, “Urgot, the assassins Katarina and Talon, Cassiopeia the serpent, Darius, Draven...” Garen was trying to ponder through who else currently belonged from Noxus.

“Urgot?” The thought of ever seeing that man made him nauseous, but it also made him hunger for battle. To kill the man for his transgressions against him.

“He's not summoned as often as other champions, but yes,” Jarvan observed how Garen was trying to shield him, protect him from harm. How could he have missed how much Garen cared for him?  
That acknowledged, he was Garen's prince, and he was determined to set the example. “I want to join the League, to show Noxus that Demacia does not run. To prove our might in Valoran. It would be an honor to fight at your side as well.”

“Would you be able to fight against me, too?” Garen asked, his eyes surprisingly serious, something Jarvan had never witnessed from the man. “We don't choose our teams. We are simply summoned and we battle against whoever is on the other team.”

“It would be my duty.”

Garen squared his chin and nodded. “I will put a good word in with the council, since I am in good standing with them. I have little doubt that they won't accept you immediately.” He stood now, bowing from the waist. “If you will excuse me.”

“You are excused.”

It was a perfect soldier's march that took him from Jarvan's sight. Two years would be hard to mend, and Jarvan had only just begun to pick at the ice that had formed.

 

Jarvan was admitted into the League very quickly after Garen's recommendation cleared the committee. After touring the facility, they presented him with temporary board until his Judgment trial the day following. Just as he had finished checking out the space, there was a knock at his door.

Swinging it open, Garen and Xin Zhao were standing in the doorway.

“Congratulations,” Xin Zhao said simply. Garen nodded in agreement, smiling.

“The strength of Demacia is increased,” Jarvan added, welcoming them inside. They engaged in some small talk up until Xin Zhao excused himself.

“I have an engagement with the king,” Xin Zhao stood, bowing fully, back perfectly straight. “If you will excuse me.” He waited for the dismissal.

“Xin Zhao, as a friend of mine, you do not have to treat me with such formality. Simply let me know when you are needing to go,” Jarvan smiled, but Xin Zhao remained stiff, clearly unwilling to accept this. “You can go as you please.”

“Thank you,” He replied, analyzing Jarvan's words, glancing almost imperceptibly to Garen (who nodded to him). Then he turned and left.

Garen turned to Jarvan, “Suppose it's a bad idea to suggest drinking before your trial, huh?”

“You never change, do you?” Jarvan broke into laughter. “Did Xin Zhao know you intended to distract me from resting tonight?”

“Unlikely,” Garen was smiling truly, and Jarvan was delighted to see this side of Garen once more.

“You know I have to pass,” Jarvan continued to smile.

“A shame. There's a great deal of beautiful women in the League and I guarantee the bar is swarming with your future teammates.”

For the first time, Jarvan wondered if Garen was the type to sleep around. The gap in his knowledge toward this man felt large and insurmountable.

“But, really, there's great beer on tap. Sometimes Xin Zhao and I go there together,” He was still speaking, clearly trying to cover his earlier statement, since he had read Jarvan's contemplation as judgment.

“Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Ah, alright, then,” He stood, bowing at the neck. Jarvan caught his eyes travel to the bed, as if to see if it was suitable. But the gesture didn't betray any negative judgment, in fact in some ways Garen's expression seemed wistful.

There was no way, though.

Garen turned and left.

 

The trial and subsequent match were rough experiences for Jarvan. Someone crawling through his mind, controlling his actions, brought back memories of another experience he couldn't control. The whole day had left him exhausted and edgy. As if somehow knowing this without having seen him first, Garen showed up to his room with a beer can for each.

“I figured it would be a rough first day. I know it was for me,” He tossed Jarvan the beer. “I figured you might like to skip the crowd.”

They cracked them open and Jarvan struggled to not just down his entirely, after all, Garen didn't. Soon they were chatting pleasantly, the alcohol having taken the edge off of their usual formality. Of course, then Garen started yawning more than talking and Jarvan knew it was time to call it a night.

“I suppose we should get some sleep,” Jarvan said, still smiling from their conversation.

“Yeah, probably,” Garen yawned again.

There was a silence that Jarvan didn't know what meant. Then Garen was standing, “If you'll excuse me then.” Jarvan didn't want him to leave all of the sudden, but he knew that it wouldn't be fitting behavior to demand him to stay.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jarvan,” Garen left.

 

The nightmares were some of the worst Jarvan had ever experienced. Urgot controlled his mind in his dream, forcing him to inflict wounds upon himself, no Nexus available to heal him. Waking up screaming, bed empty, no one rushing to the door made him feel even more ill than the dreams. He sat there, shaking, wanting to throw up.

Then there was a knock at his door. “Jarvan? Jarvan open the door.” His voice was quiet, but it carried through the frame.

Jarvan stumbled from the bed, opening the door. It was Garen, no sword, only in his pajama bottoms.

He came in the room without a word and waited till the door swung closed before hugging him close. Stunned, Jarvan just let it happen.

“I heard...” Garen started quietly. Jarvan felt humiliation well up within him. He had no idea where Garen's quarters were in the facility and for him to hear him scream was an embarrassment through and through. Who knew who else had heard. He could only hope no one knew his voice well enough yet to know who had shouted.

Yet at the same time, Jarvan leaned into the embrace. He was tired of being strong, tired of trying to hide how terrified he was of everything. If someone had to know his weakness, let it be only this person, let it only be Garen.

“Stay,” He whispered, and he felt Garen nod against his neck.

They moved to the bed, and Jarvan fell promptly to sleep.

 

Garen was still sleeping beside him when he next awoke. It was in the low light of morning that Jarvan realized he was in love. Maybe it was out of duty that kept Garen close to him, but in the first rays of this morning, Jarvan wanted no one else. The emotion kept him in the bed until Garen woke up naturally himself, smiling at the prince as he opened his eyes.

“Come back tonight,” Jarvan said as they stared at one another.

“Sure, Jarvan.”

 

And the following night, Garen was there, a small satchel with him holding night clothes and a few bathroom accessories.

“It's weird wandering around here with no shirt on. People stare,” He said, gesturing to the bag.

“How far is your room?” Jarvan asked, curious for a couple of reasons, but the primary one being how Garen had heard him.

“We actually share a wall,” He pointed to the wall straight across from the door, the one his bed was pressed against. To say he felt relieved was an understatement. Hopefully the insulation was just poor between the two walls. Garen then went into the bathroom and changed into a pair of loose pants for bed.

“I have a match in the morning,” Garen said as he exited the restroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You?”

“Late afternoon, I think. I'll have to check the schedule again.”

There was a chuckle as Jarvan tugged out of his shirt and prepared for bed. “You don't know for sure?”

“No,” Jarvan grumbled, realizing he should know, this was one his duties after all. He simply removed his pants and turned to the bed. Just because he had company didn't mean he felt like he needed to change his usual sleep attire.

Though what hadn't occurred to him was this was Garen's first time seeing him mostly undressed since he'd returned. Garen's eyes roamed his body, noting the new scars, his face a quiet frown. He let him rove across him before sitting beside him in the bed; Garen's eyes had stopped to linger at his chest, his eyes tracing the longest of Urgot's scars. Jarvan gripped his jaw and forced him to look him in the face.

Garen's face betrayed his guilt.

“Sorry,” He uttered, not fighting the grip on his face.

“Never apologize to me ever again.”

“Yes, Jarvan.”

And without another thought, Jarvan leaned forward and kissed him. He felt Garen reel at first, before relaxing, letting the kiss happen. It was short, and when Jarvan ended it, Garen's eyes held a hundred questions, though he articulated none of them.

Jarvan tried not to feel disappointed. That was until Garen slowly put a hand behind his neck and took another kiss.

“We should get some rest,” Garen whispered when this kiss ended.

He agreed, moving to the half of the bed he'd sometime in the past decided was his own. However, this time when Garen got in, he held his arms out with a hesitant grin. Jarvan didn't hesitate, moving into them, happy to be embraced.

He slept through the night peacefully.

 

Garen kissed him on the forehead before leaving for his match the next morning. It was Jarvan's cue to get up and see when his match actually was. Turned out it was scheduled for after lunch, so Jarvan continued to work on various things his father expected him to take care of.

His own match was quite the short affair, Jarvan proud to have fought with his team. When he returned to his room there was a note slid under the door. Garen had returned to Demacia to take care of business, but promised to be back before night.

Jarvan knew he would have to poke fun at Garen for this; these kind of letters were what lovesick couples sent one another.

Though he would be a bit of a liar if he said he wasn't glad for the information it contained.

 

And sure enough, just as the sun was setting, there was a knock at the door. When the door closed, Garen stepped forward, placing a hand to Jarvan's cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

“So, are we...?” Garen let it hang.

“I'd like us to be,” Jarvan responded, taking another kiss.

“I'd always hoped that you...”

He laughed, “Why didn't you ever say anything?” But as he watched Garen's face, Jarvan understood why. There was so much doubt in Garen, something Jarvan had never considered about his friend. Garen's confidence ended when it came to personal matters. He would never possess the confidence to lead when it came to relationships. Though as he considered it, he found himself smiling again, “Will you be my boyfriend, Garen?”

This time Garen did laugh, “Only if you'll be mine.”

“Deal,” And Jarvan kissed him once more.

“Can we...” Garen trailed off, hand drifting back to Jarvan's hair, finger caressing his hair.

“When that door closes, you and I are just regular people, Garen. You can tell me what you want.”

“Heh, I hate to inform you that you will never be just a regular person, Jarvan, but I guess I can try to honor your request,” Garen was still smiling, leaning forward for another kiss. “May I make love to you?” He whispered so quietly, that if Garen hadn't been as close as he was, Jarvan would have never heard him.

“You may, Garen,” Jarvan whispered back, only because he felt that if he spoke too loudly Garen might not be able to handle it. Seeing his best friend so unsure of himself surprised him, but maybe it shouldn't have. They had so much to learn about one another and Jarvan hadn't even realized.

But, with permission granted, Garen pressed a hand up his shirt, sliding around to pull Jarvan close. Just above his waistline, Garen kneaded his fingers into skin, causing Jarvan to groan. The sound surprised Garen, his eyes widening before narrowing in lust. Clearly, he liked what he heard. Jarvan opted to return the favor, tugging at Garen's shirt before he moved his arms above his head, letting Jarvan take it off. Garen then helped Jarvan from his.

Jarvan pressed a hand to Garen's chest, looking at the scars on Garen's body. The scars suited him, most of the marks blade wounds or clearly battle wrought. Though Garen had seen him shirtless before, and hell, had pulled him from Urgot's lab, Jarvan still felt self-conscious when Garen placed a hand on his chest. His thumb brushed only a part of the long scar across there and Jarvan fought away the urge to force Garen to stop.

Then Garen stooped down and kissed the scars, Jarvan gasping, hands at Garen's shoulders, pushing back before he could even think. Garen froze, stepping back.

“I-I'm sorry,” Jarvan choked out, feeling guilty.

“No, I shouldn't have-”

“It's not that I-” Jarvan cursed himself mentally, seeing Garen lock up so fast from his actions. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Garen. “It's alright. I was just surprised.”

They were kissing again, Jarvan able to feel the tensity escape Garen's body in his arms. Garen kissed at his neck, avoiding lingering anywhere particularly long before kissing his belly button, kneeling, following the thin trail of hair there just above his pants' button. He undid it, calloused fingers separating the button from its slit, unzipping the zipper and pressing his pants to the ground. Fully naked in front of Garen was something new though, something they hadn't done since they were little kids. Jarvan felt his breath catch in his throat as Garen continued his kisses lower and lower, until finally he was kissing down Jarvan's length.

He moaned, feeling the blood rush down, becoming hard as Garen continued to kiss and lick. Garen's hands gripped his ass as he hardened, until finally, Garen put his mouth over his cock and sucked on him.

“Ungh- Garen-” It felt undeniably great, as Garen tested his own abilities, licking, sucking, attempting to take Jarvan into his throat. The first accidental brush with teeth though, got Jarvan to gasp.

“Sorry,” Garen said, drawing back to his tip and kissing him there.

“Just try not to do that again,” Jarvan whispered in reply, finding the image of Garen's face looking up to him from between his legs very attractive. Then Garen looked away from his face, closing his eyes and going back to giving Jarvan head.

This time he seemed to be getting the hang of it, remembering to breath through his nose, taking Jarvan more and more into his throat. It was surprising how quick a learner Garen was, obviously taking pointers from how Jarvan moaned or the twitch of his hips.

Jarvan fought himself to stay still as Garen continued, not wanting to face-fuck his friend inadvertently. But it was growing harder with every second, his pleasure building, tightening in his muscles at his stomach.

Garen didn't slow, and Jarvan found his hands groping for something to touch, settling on gripping Garen's hair. It didn't deter him when he pulled as Garen ran his tongue around him in his mouth, once again taking him into his throat.

The sensations were too much, Jarvan able to hear his own breathing in echo in the room as Garen continued. He could feel the precipice now, knowing his orgasm was only moments away.

“Garen, oh- Garen, I'm going to- Garen-” Jarvan groaned, gripping Garen's hair, ejaculating in three long spurts, dick still in Garen's mouth. Garen swallowed what he could, but some still escaped as he opened his mouth to catch his breath. Jarvan realized he must have held Garen to his dick, preventing his breathing while he climaxed. “S-sorry...” He breathed out, stumbling to the bed to sit down. Jarvan couldn't help but feel some twisted pride at seeing his cum on Garen's face, a visual reminder of his claim.

Garen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping it on the inside of his pants leg as he stood. Jarvan could see his erection through his pants.

“I suppose you deserve something in exchange,” Jarvan smiled, beckoning Garen forward. It summoned him, Garen stepping forward to be just in front of Jarvan. This time Jarvan kissed Garen's stomach, just below his belly button, hands undoing his pants. A slow breath escaped Garen as his pants were pulled from his form, pooling at his feet.

Jarvan placed his hands on Garen's hips, tipping forward to kiss him just above his dick. It was not a gasp that escaped Garen, but an audible quip of anticipation. He trailed his kisses lower, listening as Garen's breath become faster. Someone had been waiting for this with more desperation than he had thought.

When he took Garen into his mouth, the sound he made was so strangled and pleased, Jarvan had to chuckle just a bit. “How long have you waited for this?” Jarvan questioned, bobbing his head down slowly onto Garen's dick.

“F-forever,” Garen whispered, hand touching his head, but not gripping his hair, not pulling; encouraging though, the slimmest edge of force in his palm.

“Am I your first, Garen?” Jarvan looked up from his dick with only his eyes, Garen's expression hooded, longing.

“I couldn't bring myself to-” His voice hitched when Jarvan licked his length before sucking him into his throat again. “J-Jarvan-”

Garen's fingers twitched against his skull again, his self-control remarkable, not clenching his hair. If he were anything lesser to him, Jarvan would work to break him, but this was not a foe nor a conquest; this was Garen. And his love for him was absolute.

He did however, want to do whatever it took to hear him screaming, taking Garen deep into his throat all at once, nosing into the hair at his base. Garen groaned aloud, a frantic noise of pleasure. Jarvan only wanted to hear move of that, hands moving past his hips to grip his ass. He trailed a finger between his ass, noting the twitch in his entire body as he passed his anus.

Jarvan swirled his finger around that spot, picking up his pace with Garen's cock in his mouth. Garen panted, muscles twitching, and just as Jarvan earlier, fighting not to thrust into his mouth. He slid a finger inside Garen, feeling him jerk in surprise at this. With practiced ease, Jarvan rubbed inside, arching to find his prostate.

He was made aware when he found it, Garen letting out a half-shout, body jerking, but not hard enough to push him further into Jarvan's throat. His breathing accelerated, looking to the ceiling as Jarvan increased his pace, adding a second finger.

“Jarvan, n-” He bit his lip, muscles inside tensing around Jarvan's fingers. “I can't- in your mouth- I can't-”

“Yes, you can,” Jarvan whispered back, before taking Garen into his mouth once more, taking him in and out as fast as he can. His fingers tensed once more on the back of his head before he heard Garen's breath hitch, ejaculating at the same time. Garen's body tightened around his fingers, sucking him in further first before Jarvan slid them out. Jarvan kept his hands on Garen's ass though, forcing him to ride his entire orgasm out inside his mouth.

Jarvan swallowed Garen's load with ease, releasing his hips when he knew Garen was completely finished. When he looked up, Garen was blushing heavily, namely across his clavicle and chest. Garen all but collapsed into the bed with Jarvan, still trying to catch his breath.

“I take it that means we'll be doing this again?” Jarvan asked, listening to Garen's panting through the sheets.

“Oh, yes,” Garen replied, rolling over to see his prince. Jarvan who leaned down to kiss Garen, relishing in how enthusiastically Garen returned the kiss. Garen tugged Jarvan into his arms, holding him close as they drifted asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah hah haa... I'm thinking of making a Collection on here called "Garen does the World" cause I think I have a problem. He's too shippable! It's not my fault, I swear. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Don't worry, I'm still working on all the other stories, too. I just like doing little one-shot things as a cool down between ideas.


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